


The World's Most Useless Servant

by black_moral



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Gen, Merthur Party 2013, Team Orange
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-23
Updated: 2013-12-23
Packaged: 2018-01-05 19:01:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1097507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/black_moral/pseuds/black_moral
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Really, <i>what</i> was my father thinking? (Arthur's POV)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The World's Most Useless Servant

**Author's Note:**

> Day 2 Prompt for 2013's [Merthur Party](http://merthurparty.tumblr.com/), "The Prat and the Idiot". Go Team Orange! I really have to thank everyone on the team for being supportive and open with their suggestions and inspirations. It was a bit of a challenge because this really _isn't_ a Merthur story, but a precursor in which begins to add together the elements that could make it Merthur. It's also fun to try to get into Arthur's stubborn mind, which can be a complicated jigsaw puzzle where you can never quite find all of the pieces you need.
> 
> There are many wonderful pieces of work up in the link above from art to other amazing stories. Please take a look! And I hope you enjoy this piece. Thank you in advance for reading.
> 
> * * *

How did I end up with the world’s most useless servant? Really, _what_ was my father thinking?

 

The man can’t even hand me a sword without nearly impaling me with it! And sometimes I wonder if half of these near-incidents are accidental. I may have to worry if this is some articulate plan to assassinate me through making me believe that he is nothing but a clumsy fool. But, this might be giving him too much credit. This _is_ Merlin, after all. Still can’t carry a tray of food without making me wear some portion of it. At least it wasn’t milk today, which I’ll tell you, I probably would have rather been clobbered by the milk jug. The smell it carries after it dries in your hair is something awful. Though, I really couldn’t find a proper reason when, while training with the other men today, why _grapes_ happened to drop out from the bottom of my tunic. I never thought I’d stare at another man long enough to notice that his mustache hairs were uneven and that he had crumbs at the corner of his mouth from whatever he ate before training.

 

Nothing I do makes him take his job more seriously, either. I know he rolls his eyes behind my back, and only because he doesn’t want his head lopped off in that instant. You’d think spending the afternoon mucking the horses and having objects thrown at him would stiffen a man to respect his Prince a little better. Not Merlin. He’ll wash, change, and return to me with that stupid grin of his and those wide blue eyes as he awaits my next orders that I know he won’t get right. The other day I sent him to wash my clothes, and when I was starting to become surprised that he had done so in a prompt manner, since I really needed clothes to wear (as Camelot was host to a neighboring kingdom), it turned out he had misplaced my trousers. Embarrassing my father (and myself) was out of the question, so I was forced to wait in my chambers in only my tunic until that bumbling fool managed to find and wash them.

 

I don’t even want to get into how hunting expeditions result with him. It’s as if every animal in all of Camelot knows where we are before we even step foot into the woods when Merlin is with me. How he even managed to get to Camelot from Ealdor is beyond me. One moment he is beside me with my crossbow and bolts in tow, the next he’s tumbling over a hillside which happens to be where my target is! He apologizes much too loudly, gathers himself with the grace of an ass, and I already know my day is done and I’m lucky if I return with a rabbit thanks to him. Yet he smiles and tries to assure me that _at least_ I managed to kill an animal and that should make the day a success despite it all. I tend to take three or four men with me because I can bring down a deer or some wild boar. It makes me a laughing stock when I am reduced to returning with a single rabbit because I happen to have a servant with the brains of the very animals I am trying to hunt.

 

And he gets paid for such idiocy.

 

So, why don’t I fire him? Hire myself a different manservant who would probably be several times an upgrade from Merlin?

 

I was starting to think I would have no choice after I nearly broke him in half when we were training for the annual sword tournament. Of which I _had_ fired him briefly after he embarrassed me for accusing Valiant of sorcery. Turned out the idiot was right in the end, but we already smoothed that over and he doesn’t have to know how much I regret tearing him down. Even now, it still leaves a bit of a burn, and only because he looks like a kicked puppy when he’s proven he’s in the wrong (and I _may_ have a soft spot for puppies). Though, he is far from a puppy, more like a pig—and I mean that in the most positive of ways because he’s stubborn and refuses to back down in an argument. Merlin always puts up a fight, regardless of how weak his defenses are. Even when he’s rendered silent, you can see the war that still wages on within his eyes and sometimes you have to turn away before you begin to doubt yourself.

 

For all my complaints, no one understands why I keep him in my service. Even my father added a gold piece of opinion once, stating that even if he did save my life, I was under no obligation to keep him. At the time he had figured that Merlin needed a job, and what better reward than to work for the very Prince whose life you saved! It was all glamour and glitter and praised with applause, though had you seen us that evening we certainly felt the opposite. Neither of us at the time understood why this relationship continued to be once all the excitement of the moment faded away. And even now, I still wonder. There’s really no strong argument for keeping him. But, there’s really no strong argument against keeping him, either.

 

I guess if I had to defend why I keep him, it’s really got little to do for his usefulness as a servant. He’s different. He’s not stumbling over his own feet in trying to please me. Frankly, he just stumbles over his feet—he doesn’t need a reason for that. He doesn’t bow or kneel before me, and he manages to sneak in how I am a prat every chance he gets. Honorifics are a foreign language to him half the time though he’s quite the scholar in sarcasm. I do have to admit the life in Camelot has become more interesting since his arrival; there’s never a dull moment and I am certain I will have grey hairs if I manage to survive long enough to become king. And while none of that sounds redeeming, it’s why he’s different from other servants. He doesn’t change himself when he’s around me or other people. The Merlin who works diligently with Gaius is the same Merlin who sings and twirls about when he’s right intoxicated is also the same Merlin who knocks the fruit bowl over and scrambles to pick them up to my dismay when I actually want to pick one up for myself.

 

He’s a real person, set out to be who he can be without having to grovel for mercy. It’s a rare and admirable quality that never ceases to amaze me.

 

He’s not a bad guy to talk to, either, whenever you’re in the need of an actual conversation.

 

He’s still an idiot, though. A courageous, honest, true and loyal idiot. But still an idiot.

 

 _My_ idiot, at that.


End file.
